


New Stars, Where Dis?

by artificiallifecreator



Series: Gilgamesh ex Machina [1]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Enkidu is having a bad day, Gen, Gilgamesh is also having a bad day, Immediately post-Fate/Zero, Sumerian Mythology - Freeform, Time Travel, What is canon really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29575218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificiallifecreator/pseuds/artificiallifecreator
Summary: It's the catastrophic end of the Fourth Holy Grail War and the Grail's collapsed all over Gilgamesh. He's had 11 days to adjust to the future.Enkidu's had five minutes, and it shows.
Relationships: Enkidu | False Lancer & Gilgamesh | Archer, Enkidu | False Lancer & Gilgamesh | Caster
Series: Gilgamesh ex Machina [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174580
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of "Gilgamesh ex Machina", and the part of the story that actually has plot XD
> 
> Many thanks to ChibiNightOwl for the once over!

_Enkidu._

They stir, blink a couple times in the darkness, and step out of a Gate—

Gil stands amid the rubble, wreathed in firelight.

—and into a cataclysm.

“There you are,” he greets

Enkidu looks around—around again— _there’s so much fire_ —

The ash smells different, the _air_ tastes different, beyond the sounds of the fire and the dying there’s ... a distant roar.

They want to ask what happened, where they are, what’s going on, but Gil—

(isn’t wearing any clothes?)

—comes first.

With a wave of his hand, Gil gives them leave to scout (briefly).

Enkidu’s eyes flick to the man nearby.

“He’s of no consequence,” assures Gil.

The man takes offence to that—Enkidu doesn’t even recognize the language—but Gil apparently does. Apparently speaks it? Or there’s some translation spell at work between the two.

Gil says to the man, “You were a means to an end but now you are nothing to me. I will not associate with you from this point on, and I would rather not kill you to do that.” He turns back to Enkidu with an eye roll.

Enkidu nods, and rockets skyward.

The fire is somehow worse from above: it stretches for leagues in all directions, but—

Maybe it’s not the fire that distresses them. In the distance, far beyond the fire, are lights. White, blue, amber, and red, some stationary points of light, others flow together in formation like strings of glitter. Pinks and blues and green—glyphs of some sort—float in the sky; beyond them, inky black rectangles blot out the stars.

A falling star—a red dot blinking with green—moseys across the sky.

Enkidu inhales. it’s shakier than they’d like to admit.

They return to the ground.

The man, Enkidu’s pleased to see, has left.

“We should leave,” says Gil.

“Vimana?”

He nods; the ground beneath them glows, and within moments Vimana rises from the Gate and into the air with them aboard.

As Gil disables the running lights, Enkidu collapses onto a bench and watches the stars race by until, some time later, the air grows heavy with the smell of the sea.

Enkidu slides to the floor. Takes a breath.

“What happened?”

“The ‘Holy Grail War’,” replies Gil. “Apparently it’s a person now.”

_What?_

“She’s dead,” he adds.

“Isn’t the Holy Grail in the Treasury?” asks Enkidu.

Gil laughs. “Explains why they had to use a person in this era!”

A person, the Grail, dead—Enkidu has so many questions they barely know where to start—”What is ‘this era’?”

“About four millennia after I died.”

“Four—you’ve been _dead_ for _four thousand_ years?!” Enkidu’s on their feet, somehow. “How are you even here?”

“That would be the Holy Grail War again.”

“Okay. Okay. We’ll go into that later.” _Deep breath, Enkidu, deep breath_. “Where are we?”

As Vimana raises a desk, a Gate opens and drops a scroll into Gil’s waiting hand.

Enkidu pads to his side.

“I had this commissioned,” Gil says proudly, unrolling the scroll.

Vimana creates a quartet of paper weights and settles them over the corners. Enkidu absently pats the side of the desk.

“Uruk was here—“ Gil points to the top of a weirdly boot-shaped chunk of land. “—and we are here.” He taps an island a fifth of the map away.

“I’m guessing that’s more than a few days’ ride away.”

Gil doesn’t answer. 

“Gil, how far away are we?”

“Three times the distance between Uruk and the southernmost point of the peninsula.” Gil taps the bottom of the boot-shaped land mass, which, now that Enkidu has more than one landmark, becomes recognizable, which means—“

“Fifteen hundred leagues. _Fifteen hundred leagues and four thousand years in the future_.” Enkidu’s looking out at the sea, a hand tangled in their hair. Their chest hurts. “Fifteen hundred—“ They whip back around. “How does this even happen! We destroyed the primordial mother, we rebuilt, and all the other things we did, and then the gods do this?! Will we ever be free? Or will we be their playthings even after we’re dust?!”

“The gods didn’t do this, humans did.”

“Humans? Humans did this? Humans shouldn’t be able to do this! Humans aren’t capable of this! Humans—“

Gil gathers them close. “Hey, I’m here. We’re going to be fine.”

Enkidu hisses out a breath. Exhales again just for good measure.

“Better?”

Enkidu presses their face to Gil’s chest. Feels his skin against their forehead, his heartbeat under their ear.

It had barely been a full day since Enkidu had last seen Gil; he was older then, the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. He’s younger now, and that ‘day’ feels like it’s lasted for eons.

Enkidu links their hands behind Gil’s back and steps even closer. “You stink.”

“And you smell ….” Gil huffs. “Fine. Like you.” He squeezes Enkidu tighter.

“I hope you melted down like this when you arrived.”

Gil hums.

Enkidu punches him in the stomach.

“In fairness, when I arrived, I already knew—“ He waves a hand. “— _this_ was going to be different, though I didn’t yet have the specifics.” Gil rocks back on his heels. “I think the vessels must come with some basic information written in about their circumstances, because I wasn’t wholly ignorant at the beginning.”

“The more I hear about this War, the more convoluted it seems.” Enkidu squeezes back and pushes away—their wrist touches the fabric and it’s just—their skin just wants to shrivel away.

Gil laughs at their flinch and their retreat, but he plucks at the curtain in disdain. “This is so gross.” He pulls it off. “I’m getting rid of it.”

He casts it aside with a flick of his wrist; sparks fly in its wake and it erupts in a flash of blue flame.

A window opens in Vimana’s shield. In moments, she has the ash suctioned out and into the atmosphere.

Completely innocently, Enkidu asks, “How long were you stuck with that?”

“We’re four thousand years into the future and _that’s_ what you want to know first?”

“Do you want to know how many times I had to listen to you rant about how properly fitted clothes are key to presenting oneself in the best possible way?”

Gil makes a face but counters, “In fairness, a magical artefact made from a corpse threw up on me and melted my armour.”

“So, a curtain.”

Gil rallies an argument but decides against it. “First of all, it’s what remains of my cape. Secondly, If I was going to be walking through an inferno, I’d rather catch sparks on ruined fabric rather than my skin.”

“Finally!” Enkidu grins. “He makes some sense!”

“I can’t believe I missed you.”

Enkidu sticks their tongue out.

Gil sneers back.

Vimana’s shields sparkle.

Gil cracks a smile and the both of them dissolve into snickers.

When they’ve caught their breath, Enkidu asks, “So what do we do now?”

Gil grins, and it’s like they’re barely teenagers again. “Same thing we’ve always done: figure out where we stay, what we eat—if we eat, in this case—, how we communicate, and what the currency is.”

Enkidu leans heavily against the desk. “Well, when you put it that way ....”

Gil laughs, and a Gate opens with a notebook. He tosses it over. “Start writing down those questions, and I’ll get some blankets.”

Vimana’s shields crackle.

“He means ‘trousers’,” says Enkidu, easing down against the desk.

They flip the notebook open.

It’s one of the set that Gil had made when they were learning to write; the set they would eventually take with them when they left Uruk to document their powers.

And now, they’ll document their new world.

Enkidu swallows.

Puts stylus to papyrus.

The books were probably thirty years old at this point, but they hadn’t used this one so it had stayed in the Treasury, and time passed differently there. It didn’t seem on the verge of crumbling, at any rate.

Enkidu ….

Had so much to write.

Gil? The War? The curtain? The fire? What they knew so far? That shooting star? The floating glyphs?

Beyond Vimana’s shield, the wind whistles. The same wind that gusted back home, just fifteen hundred leagues offset.

Enkidu writes, “1500 leagues + 4000 +/- years from Uruk.” Below that, “Holy Grail War” and underlines it twice. Adds, “But, Grail in Treasury?”

“Fire” goes next, then “man of no consequence”.

They cross out “fire” and write “communicate how?” with an arrow connecting it with the War and the man.

“Vessel”, “fire”, “cape”—Enkidu smiles to themselves—“shooting star”. They then draw a trio of differently sized rectangles and fill them each in with a scribble. “What now?”, “Uruk”.

What next?

Enkidu’s mind offers nothing but static.

A Gate fizzles, and they hear Gil step out—

Enkidu’s world becomes soft greens and creams; they unbury themselves—

“Let’s see what you’ve thought of so far,” Gil crows, now with the notebook but Enkidu doesn’t care because this—

This is their baby blanket.

They press their face into the yarn, and try desperately not to think of how long dead its crafter must be, how many generations of daughters have died and gone to dust since Gil—

_They’d returned to Uruk shortly before Enkidu’s first “birthday”—“You were made for me, and you weren’t yourself before I found you,” said Gil, with all the easy confidence (arrogance, really) of a teenager. “It’s been one year since the most important day of your life, which means that today is your birthday.”_

_What Enkidu didn’t know at the time was that Gil had in fact noticed how covetously they looked at the worn, buttery soft blanket they had uncovered in a chest found while snooping through Gil’s things._

_Enkidu had been surprised when, exactly one year after that, Gil had woken them up with a tackle, a loud, “Happy birthday!!!”, and an_ itinerary. _(It hadn’t yet occurred to Gil that not everyone liked being the center of attention for an entire day.)_

_Enkidu cherished every single moment, but the most precious came that night, when Gil finally took pity on them, wilting in their seat, and dragged them back to his quarters._

_“I saved the best for last,” Gil announced._

_Enkidu swatted the air and remained face down on the pillow._

_“I need you to be awake for just a teeny bit longer, I promise.”_

_Enkidu huffed, but hauled themselves up to sitting, and glowered through their hair at Gil—_

_Who’s nervous._

_Enkidu shook their hair from their face and straightened._

_“Remember that treaty with—you weren’t there, you probably don’t. But it wasn’t just for Uruk, apparently those sheep are descendants of a line blessed by Sirtur herself. And the census I ran last year? One of the things I had asked was for the names of the best spinsters and weavers, and—“ Gil huffed and shoved a lump wrapped in muslin into Enkidu’s lap. “Just open it. Please.”_

_The knot fell away under Enkidu’s fingers, and the muslin unfolded—_

_Gil burst out, “It’s a baby blanket.” He pulled it free, and draped it over Enkidu’s shoulders. “Because you didn’t get one when you were born; all you had were leaves, and that’s just dumb.”_

_Enkidu …._

_“Well?”_

_Enkidu croaked. wheezed. squeaked. and cried._

_(A lot.)_

_(Gil had planned for them to meet the artisan the next day. Enkidu, firmly cocooned in their new! blanket!, had other plans, and didn’t get out of bed.)_

Enkidu’s crying now too, but just a bit. 

Maybe their chest would hurt less if they could cry more.

Vimana hums suddenly beneath them, and Enkidu senses movement.

“Shipping lane,” explains Gil. He continues, more to himself: “And an air lane. Everything is so crowded now, honestly.”

Enkidu sits up with a sniff and—

A crinkly packet of folded white rectangles lands in their lap.

“Disposable handkerchiefs!” explains Gil.

Enkidu gingerly tears open the packet and fishes out a rectangle. It’s a little scratchy, but they wipe their eyes and nose anyway, and stuff it and the others into a pocket.

There’s a thunk, and Vimana falls silent.

Gil returns to his lounge; he’d brought out a couple large pillows, and had found a linen shirt (the embroidery on the sleeves doesn’t match—Enkidu remembers that fight: the embroidery doesn’t match because one of the sleeves was replaced) and sleep pants a size too short. 

Enkidu wraps themselves up in their blanket—shaves off a handspan of height and pulls the blanket over their head, and sheds another half hand for good measure. 

“What do you want to know first?” asks Gil. 

Enkidu collects the blanket and scuttles over beside Gil. 

He tucks them against his side, grinning, “If you keep shrinking you really will be a baby.”

Enkidu elbows him, but adds the half-hand back.

Their eyes pick out—a familiar constellation!!! They trace it out mentally, follows it to its neighbour, and then to a third—

They can’t find any others.

Enkidu croaks, “Can we go home?”

“Not really. The region’s a mess, apparently.” Gil scoffs, “Wouldn’t be if i was still in charge, though.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Gil offers the notebook back. “It’s been abandoned, but also sabotage and war—I only had a chance to skim the book I found.”

Beside “Uruk,” Enkidu writes, “ = abandoned. Messy history.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised your handwriting is still terrible and yet I am.”

“Oh to have been taught by the greatest tutors in all the land before I was ten.”

“You’re the one who spent a decade in the woods.”

“Then maybe the gods should’ve aimed better.”

Gil laaaaughs.

Enkidu smiles in spite of themselves, then, “Holy Grail War?”

Gil grimaces. “It’ll take me a couple hours to explain it all, but I will right now if you want me to.”

Enkidu makes a face, then, “Where are we?”

“The ‘sun origin’. ‘Nippon’, they call it. It’s also known as ‘Japan’.”

“Language?”

“‘Sun origin language’; Nhongo; Japanese.”

“People?”

“Pretty much the same: Sun origin people, Nihonjin, Japanese.”

Enkidu taps their stylus against the page. Looks over the questions. Then, “You mentioned you were in a ‘vessel’.”

“I should begin by saying that the person who summoned me was very careful to keep any texts—even introductory texts—about this whole mess away from me. The ‘‘Caster’ servants apparently can summon their own Servants—“

“Not a good thing?”

Gil shrugs. “Even though I’m apparently an ‘Archer’, I’m sure I could’ve been a Caster and that man knew it.”

Enkidu points with the stylus over their shoulder. “That man?”

“Different man. Dead now.”

(“ _Gil = summoned by man2 ( =/= inconsequential, man1). Smart._

 _Servant. Archer, could be Caster; = more Servants, bad thing?_ ”)

Enkidu asks, “All the weapons in the Treasury and you were stuck with only a bow?”

Gil barks a laugh. “As if!” He grins. “No, my skill in battle seemed … weaker, somehow, but I was as good at ranged attacks as I’ve ever been.” He shrugs. “I just fired swords instead of arrows.”

“ _How?_ ”

A Gate fizzes open and a sword emerges.

“Like so.”

Enkidu … “That is still the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”

“But it’s very effective.”

“Yes, effective because your enemies will collectively scoff and retreat.”

Gil throws his arm over Enkidu’s head and pushes down and okay, there may be disadvantages to being this short.

“As I was saying, I don’t know all the mechanics behind it. I do know that while it’s very nearly identical, this isn’t my body.” He wiggles the fingers on his right hand. “I don't have tremors anymore.”

Enkidu gasps—“You can use your right hand again!” Smirks. “Maybe you should be taking notes with that excellent penmanship of yours.”

“If you don’t stop interrupting me, maybe I will!”

“Not in my book, you won’t!”

“Then maybe you should get back to asking questions.”

“Maybe I will!” Enkidu scans—“You in your infinite demigod-dom weren’t bothered by the time change?”

Gil frowns. “That, and I found my curiosity in my surroundings disturbingly lacking.” His frown takes on a pensive slant. “I hope that goes away.” He looks up at the stars. “There’s so much here to be curious—excited about! And yet, right now ….” He shrugs. “But other than that, I still feel like me.”

“I’m glad,” says Enkidu.

“What about you?” Gil squeezes their shoulders. “Do you feel like you?”

“I’m scared. Or, I’m finding a lot to be scared of.”

“Was the old you scared of Uruk at first?”

“The city itself was intimidating.”

“Just think of this as a bigger Uruk. For right now, we know everything within Vimana. Everything else can wait for tomorrow.”

Enkidu blindly taps Gil’s face with the stylus. “We still don’t know if either of us needs to eat or sleep.”

“True.” Gil hums. “The man who summoned me had enough mana that I never felt drained or like I needed to sleep. I still did out of boredom though.” Thoughtfully, “I guess that’s another thing about this vessel—I stayed awake for three days once and never saw sounds like I used to.”

Enkidu snickers.

“I kinda miss it.”

“I don't!”

“Look, I invented a very cool spell and it was totally worth seeing things!”

“The furniture you broke says otherwise.”

“We needed to redecorate anyway, I was just speeding things along.”

“Still as outlandish a lie as the first time you told it.”

“If we’re talking outlandish—“

“What about eating?” Enkidu says quickly.

Gil huffs, but, “Same as sleeping. Food was good, I could feel ‘full’, but I assume as long as that man had mana, I didn’t need to eat. I don’t know if either that or sleep will change now that he’s dead and I'm no longer a spirit.”

Enkidu jots that down. (“ _Sleep, food: mana. Summoner dead. Now: ???_ ”)

“I think you should be the same, though,” says Gil. “The summoning didn’t affect my Treasury, and if you were within it, then you too should be unaffected.”

Something unpleasant squirms in Enkidu’s heart.

“It’s as if I pulled you forward through time.”

Enkidu says—closes their mouth. Rallies, “I don’t like that the Treasury was just. Left there when you died.”

I don’t like that I was left to gather dust.

“I did leave a permanent Gate somewhere,” says Gil, though his voice has a strained edge to it. “I hid it well, obviously, but someone had been in there.” He forces a laugh. “What kind of guard are you if you didn’t notice?”

Enkidu rolls their eyes, but feels a little better. A little worse somehow, though. They were unaware while an intruder had the full run of the Treasury.

Softly, Gil says, “A part of me wishes I knew what was going to happen. I left you trapped for—“ He swallows. “I would be reincarnated some day, obviously, but until I was ….”

Thickly, Enkidu points out, “It did work out.”

“Yea.” But Gil isn’t looking at them.

Enkidu looks down at the notebook. Clears their throat. Digs the disposable handkerchiefs from their pocket and offers Gil the packet.

He takes it.

Enkidu croaks, “Your hands are still covered in magical artefact, huh.”

Gil’s is a watery laugh. “It’s so gross.” From the corner of their eye, Enkidu sees Gil dab at his own.

Their own voice is rather nasally when they ask, “What should our next step be?”

“Our next step.” Gil takes a deep breath. “Well, as long as there’s an area large enough to summon Vimana, we can explore the city during the day, and fly back out here during the night.”

Vimana hums in agreement.

“We can go into my Treasury from here if we need anything, but we should stay out on deck for the most part.” Gil drums his fingers against Enkidu’s shoulder. “We should look into the airspace around the city as well; we might be able to board Vimana and find a height where we won’t be seen or get hit.”

(" _Vimana: Gate can open & go in; stay on deck. Out to sea each night or stay in city; airspace._")

“First thing we should think about is clothing. The man who summoned me lent me some things that he likely didn’t intend for me to keep, but I also wasn’t intended to stay longer than the War, so. But for other things, and for you—“

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“There’s nothing remotely similar to what we’re wearing and we shouldn’t draw too much attention to ourselves.”

“The great King Gilgamesh, shying from attention?”

But he was right, attention without power was, historically, exceedingly dangerous.

“On that note, we should lie low for the next couple days, at least until the fire’s been dealt with. We should, however, retrieve my things before dawn, hopefully before they have a chance to regroup; we can get some information there, too.”

It occurs to Enkidu that they have no idea what time it is. "When is dawn exactly?"

"Around seven. About four hours from now.

" _Time_ is different now?!" 

Gil grimaces. "The sun is no longer in charge."

Enkidu collapses against Gil with a frustrated cry.

Gil pats their shoulder.

Enkidu taps Gil's face. “I’m leaving the planning to you.”

Gil chuckles, then, “While I’m there, I can get the address of the tailor that man patronised. One of them had gems so I can likely just pay with gold—“

“Why ‘likely’ and also, the map?”

“I commissioned the map before I noticed the lack of gold coins. I assume the currency is different, but I haven’t yet identified how it’s different.”

“Next stop would be a treasury, then.”

Gil hums his agreement.”

“An information broker, next.”

“Yes! And I already know where to go for that—a library. Here it’s called a ‘seeking book building’! Here, I’ll write it.”

Enkidu offers up the book and stylus, and Gil carefully draws a trio of blocky hieroglyphs.

“That’s Japanese?” they ask.

“Sort of. This is kanji, one of the scripts they use.”

“‘One of’?” Enkidu, unfortunately, squawks.

“There’s three. And Latin letters for another language—‘English’.”

Enkidu slumps. “I have to learn two more languages and four alphabets?” They swivel. “How come you didn’t have to do this?”

At least Gil has the grace to look chagrined. “It came with the vessel.”

Enkidu pouts.

“I don’t know how long it’ll continue?”

Enkidu rolls their eyes. “Next you’ll have me writing a dictionary.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

Enkidu mocks, “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to put your chicken scratch to work.”

“I don’t sound like that!”

“Yes, you do.” Enkidu claps the notebook shut. “But those are tomorrow problems.” They flop down across Gil’s lap as inconveniently as possible. “Sorting through all this in my head is a now problem.”

Gil looks at them.

Enkidu doesn’t like that look—

“I’m also a now problem?”

Enkidu squirms—

Gil collapses and squishes Enkidu between him and the cushions.

Another disadvantage to being this short, apparently.

Enkidu kicks his leg. “I thought you didn’t have to sleep.”

“I don’t.” Gil smiles into their hair. “This is just fun.”

Enkidu huffs, and Gil laughs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake:  
> “The city itself was intimidating.” Enkidu nudges Gil. “You weren’t.”  
> Gil scoffs.  
> Enkidu crosses their arms. “You were the spikey haired little shit that kept yelling at me through the ether at all hours of the day and who I was going to smack some sense into.”  
> “Yea? Well you were a dirt covered urchin who kept me waiting for ten years.”  
> Enkidu settles back against Gil. “Never really got around to smacking sense into you, did I?”  
> “You never hit hard enough to get through my thick skull.”  
> 


	2. Pre Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilgamesh's plan: get into the Tohsaka house, grab his stuff and information, get out.
> 
>  _Little_ does he know, it'll be one of his more _short_ -lived plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A zillion thank yous to chibinightowl for the beta!!

As the least bright of the stars fade and the deep black of night softens almost imperceptibly into very dark purple, Gil sits up. “We should get going.”

Neither stirring or looking away from the stars, Enkidu replies, “The Tohsaka house?”

Gil hums, then, “Are you feeling better?”

“I think so.”

Gil squeezes their shoulder. “Vimana, controls.” 

A command panel rises from the floor near Gil’s elbow, and soon Vimana’s zipping back towards shore. 

“Let’s avoid the smoke, shall we?” Gil says, mostly to himself. 

The shields crackle, but Vimana banks, and Enkidu only smells a hint of ash. 

Before too long, Gil stands for a better view of the ground. 

Enkidu sits up. 

“This is us,” says Gil, and Vimana descends. 

Enkidu’s skin tingles. “What was that?” 

Gil exhales. “A bounded field. It protects the estate from magic and some conventional threats, and can keep people in or out.” He shifts his weight. “I feared that the household would learn I was now their enemy—that I was even alive—and adjusted the field accordingly, hence I wanted us to visit sooner than later.” 

Enkidu feels around … finds their notebook, and writes, “Tohsaka enemy? Why now?”

Vimana’s level with a balcony’s railing; she lowers a section of wall over the wing. 

“Are you coming?” asks Gil, stepping out. 

Enkidu untangles themselves from their blanket and pads after him. 

Gil hops down to the balcony proper and tries the door. He grumbles, and jerks the handle. 

The door swings open. 

“Part of this game,” Gil explains, “was for the summoned spirits—“

“Like yourself?”

Gil nods, and leads Enkidu into a bedroom. He waves a quintet of fairy lights into being. “—to play bodyguard for their humans, either as a dematerialised spirit or as a physical being.” Gil’s lip twists. “The man who I was to protect—“ He spits, “— _clever_ that he was, denied me the freedom of invisibility and had me stand guard in person.” Gil’s eyes flash. “And he had the nerve to complain about me being uncooperative!”

Enkidu leans against the doorframe, the yellow-beige curtains poofing around them, and by the soft, gold light, looks around the room. 

There are four identical doors. One against the same wall as the bed, another opposite Enkidu, and two more opposite the bed. 

“Me, the King of Heroes, being uncooperative when made to play guard dog.” Gil huffs and smiles bitterly. “If only he weren’t so focused on the rules! He could’ve seen the full potential of the Wedge of Heaven.” 

Enkidu points out, “Sounds like he still picked the best person for his soldier.” 

Dark wood walls, burgundy carpet, red bedspread with burgundy and gold throw pillows. 

Two small tables sit on either side of the bed; upon each sits what Enkidu assumes to be a lamp. Above the bed, in a large, dark brown frame hangs a scene of arid cliffs—it strikes a familiar chord within Enkidu—under a sky too blue to be real—

“I suppose so.” But Gil makes a face. His eyes cut to a pair of doors set into the wall opposite the bed. “That he made me remain visible meant I had to ‘blend in’; tedious as it may be, it does now lend itself to our cause.” He crosses the room and throws them open.

Enkidu pushes off the wall and glides over. 

Garments, as plain as the bedroom, hang inside. 

“Not really your style, are they?”

“That they are not.” Gil heaves a sigh. “But for now, effective armor—“

The door opposite Enkidu creaks—

Shedding height, a whirlwind of green and white vanishes into the closet and the King of Heroes, in the old sleep clothes he wore when he and Enkidu were travelling and didn’t bother with a tent, turns to face the intruder. 

“Archer?” asks Rin-chan, peering in. “What are you doing here? Wasn’t that cup supposed to show up tonight?” She rubs her eyes. “Why aren’t you with Dad?”

Gil sends a downright deadly Look at Enkidu, both hands covering their mouth and giggling helplessly. To Rin-chan, he replies, “Something went wrong, and your father and I are working out what to do.”

Rin-chan’s frown deepens. “I don’t believe you.”

Gil grits his teeth. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Shouldn't you be asleep?” 

“You woke me up.” Rin-chan yawns. “Who were you talking to?” 

The smile Gil sends Enkidu’s way is Not a Good Smile. He says, “A friend of mine. Kingu, come meet Rin-chan.” He offers a hand. 

Enkidu replies with a dark Look of their own, but takes Gil’s hand and lets him pull them from the garments. 

“Say hello, Kingu.”

Enkidu smiles brightly and waves. 

Rin-chan takes in Enkidu and finds them wanting. “Why do you have a friend and not Dad?” 

“Because Kingu’s helping me retrieve things for your father.”

“You’re supposed to stay with him so you can protect him.”

(Enkidu takes a careful step backwards.)

“He doesn’t need protecting right now.” Gil would love nothing more than to bespell the brat back to sleep, but. 

He’s a king. He’s a warrior and a politician. 

He can out negotiate a _child_. 

“How about I get you some water and tuck you in?”

Rin-chan’s scowl deepens. “I don’t want water, I want my dad.”

What would be enough to distract a mageling from a spiral of questions without easy answers?

A Gate opens and drops a ruby the size of Rin-chan’s (admittedly small) fist into Gil’s hand. 

“I’ll give you this if you go back to bed.” 

Rin-chan glances at the ruby, then studies Gil. 

Gil thinks about a calm wind through the trees, chubby bees moseying through fields of flowers, other tranquil, not-angry thoughts …

“Fine—“

 _Thank the gods_. 

“—but I want milk in my bunny mug.”

“Consider it done.” Gil flicks the ruby into the air. “Shall I carry this or do you want to hold it?” 

Rin-chan holds out her hand—the one without her doll, and Gil drops it into her palm. She tucks her doll under her arm and transfers the ruby, and holds out her hand _again_. Because she’s seven and it’s a long, dark walk back to her room. 

Which begs the question of how she managed the walk in the first place. 

“I want to go downstairs with you.”

Ah. 

“Either I don’t turn the lights on and we trip over a monster, or I do put the lights on and let all the monsters know where we are.” Gil offers his hand. “Why don’t you stay in bed where we know there aren’t any monsters?”

Rin-chan looks back into the corridor. 

Gil scoops up her hand and walks her out of the room, though over her head he glares at Enkidu. 

They have the gall to grin _and_ wave. 

Gil knows that the _second_ Rin-chan is out of earshot, Enkidu will dissolve into useless snickering, but he opens a Gate in the bedroom anyway—

Rin-chan says, “You stink.”

“That’s part of what went wrong with the Grail,” huffs Gil. 

“How does the cup make you smell so bad?”

Gil doesn’t have to dress the truth up even a bit when he replies, “I don’t know yet.” 

“I bet Dad knows.”

“He may very well know by now. The sooner you get back to bed, the sooner I can be on my way.”

“Back to my dad.” 

Gil asks for patience. “Back to your dad.” 

“Good.”

Gil pushes open the door to Rin-chan’s room. 

“I’ll know if you use my soap.” 

As if the mythical King Gilgamesh would use a seven year old’s cartoon cat soap.

He replies, “I’m glad to see you putting your magecraft to good use. Up you go.” He lifts Rin-chan and drops her on her bed. 

She is very unimpressed, but crawls under the covers. Once settled, she hugs her doll close. “Milk, please.” 

“I’ll be back soon.” Gil heads back to the hall—“Do _not_ get out of bed.”

Rin-chan sticks her tongue out.

Gil doesn’t deign a response, though he does have to interact with Enkidu. 

Fortunately (for Enkidu), the closet’s empty, but as Gil expected, Enkidu’s collapsed on the floor against the bed, face in their hands, shaking with mirth. 

Gil closes the Gate and drawls, “I’ll let you finish.”

Enkidu drags their head up; their mouth remains hidden but their eyes and the tear tracks staining their cheeks are proof enough of their continued giggles. 

“I’m going downstairs; I don’t care what you do.” 

Enkidu squeaks, “You couldn’t command a tiny _child_.”

“Yes, thank you _so_ much for the commentary.”

“And you were in your sleep clothes! Your old sleep clothes that don’t match! They have _grass_ stains!”

“ _What?_ ” Gil twists around—

Enkidu cackles and actually topples over. 

Gil spots a small patch of green on the back of his calf. Pride smarting rather badly, he leaves Enkidu to their fit and does. not. stomp. down the stairs. 

In the kitchen, lit softly by the light under the hood vent, Gil takes a moment to fume. 

He's not sulking. 

He’s fairly certain he isn’t sulking. 

Muslin swishes against hair, and Enkidu says, “I’m sorry your plan’s gone so badly.”

Gil shrugs. “It happens.” He finds Rin-chan’s mug in the drying rack. “Would you like any?”

“Sure.” 

As Enkidu crosses their legs and settles in the air a foot or so above the island, Gil gets a glass from the cupboard and then the milk from the fridge. 

“It’s completely different than the royal kitchens,” says Enkidu, looking around. “But it’s still recognisably a kitchen.” They rest their chin in their hand. “It’s neat.”

Gil leans against the counter and looks around. He does agree; at least, some tiny, distant part of himself does, but truly he can’t bring himself to care. 

For a moment, he _hates_ the War and what this summoning’s done to him. He should find this interesting! He should feel some sense of wonder! He knows this, because he gets a teeny flicker every now and then. But most of the time, he feels nothing. 

But without the War, he wouldn’t have Enkidu again. 

He cradles Rin-chan’s mug. “Do you have your book?”

“Mhm.” 

A wisp of steam rises from between the bunny’s ears. 

“Put down something about modernity, magic, and heat, and a reminder that I’ll teach you about art once we’re settled.” 

Enkidu doesn’t write anything immediately. They’re smiling at Gil, the kind of smile that crinkles their eyes and makes their cheeks hurt, the one that reflects how their heart feels so full they may become a sunbeam. 

It’s the smile that says, _You noticed!  
_

Gil preens, and says, “I’m going to take this upstairs.”

Enkidu’s smile becomes impish. “Don’t let the children bite.” 

Gil rolls his eyes and leaves, but—“You can snoop, but don’t pick anything up.”

Enkidu _sparkles_. 

He has a fleeting desire to stay and watch Enkidu explore, but the caretaking spell woven into the summoning pushes him from the space and up the stairs, but it gives him pause at the door to Rin-chan’s room. 

“I’m still awake!” she calls. 

Gil pushes through. “So much for taking my time.”

The tiny, rose-shaped night lights on either side of the bed don’t shed much of a glow, but it’s more enough to tell she’s scowling. 

“You still did.” 

“Both hands.” 

Rin-chan rolls her eyes but takes her mug as instructed, and Gil doesn’t let go until he knows she has a good grip. 

“Thank you.”

“Do you want me to stay, or should I leave you to it?”

“Stay, please.”

Far away, a siren wails. 

Rin-chan looks towards the window, still covered by curtains. “There’s been a lot of those.” 

“Did they wake you?”

Rin-chan glares at him. “I already told you, _you_ woke me.” She looks back at the window. “Are they because of the War?”

Gil doesn’t even know where the sirens come from, let alone if there are more crying out than usual. He says as much. 

Rin-chan looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “They’re from the people who come when you call one one nine,” she says slowly. “The doctors and fire trucks and stuff.” 

“Rin-chan, why would I call a human for help?”

Rin-chan considers her mug. “If you got hurt, I guess.”

“You seem to have me mistaken for someone other than the most mythical of Heroic Spirits.” 

Rin-chan makes a face but finishes the last of her milk—Gil takes her mug—and wiggles under the covers. “You can go now.” 

“Sleep well, Rin-chan.”

She hums. 

Gil leaves—

“Hey, Archer?” calls Rin-chan. 

Hand on the door, he twists back around. 

“You can use my soap if you want to.” 

Enkidu would have a fit if he did. 

“Thank you, Rin-chan, I’ll think about it. Go to sleep now.” He closes the door and returns to the kitchen. 

Enkidu’s almost vibrating in the air. 

“One question,” Gil warns. 

Enkidu stills. Studies their book. 

Gil retrieves the milk carton and pours it into the glass, miraculously still intact and on the counter where he left it. 

Enkidu asks, “Some of the doors have words on them. Are they labels?”

“No, they’re … artisanal seals. Sort of.”

Enkidu deflates, glowering at their book. 

“Here you go.” Gil sets the glass on the island, perhaps dangerously close to Enkidu’s foot. From here, he can see into the book and the faithfully recreated renderings of the brands on the dishwasher and stove.

Enkidu folds themselves in half and touches— “It’s cold!” They look at Gil. “It’s glass?”

He nods, and goes to rinse out Rin-chan’s mug. 

“Glassware for drinking, huh.” They touch it again, a little less cautiously. “It won’t break?” 

“It will if you squeeze it too hard or if you drop it.” Gil considers. “It’s less fragile than an egg but more breakable than tin.”

Enkidu nods absently and, somewhat less cautiously, takes a hold of the glass. 

It doesn't break. 

They beam, and Gil’s heart melts a little bit at the wonder in their eyes. 

Enkidu lifts the glass—it remains intact—and looms over it, looking in without moving it any further. “It looks just like milk.” They swirl it a bit—Gil really hopes they don't spill—and then they twist in a way that should tear free a shoulder and pull apart the opposite hip, viscerally reminding Gil that _none of their joints are like a human’s_ , and peer up at the bottom of the glass—

“If you want to play with it, I’ll get you another with water.”

“There’s writing on the bottom. What does it say?”

“Probably ‘dishwasher safe’.” Gil can see the gears turning in Enkidu’s head; before they can say something like, ‘as an assurance to the kitchen staff …?’, he taps his foot against the appliance in question. “Dishwasher.” He blinks. “I probably have one in my Treasury, come to think of it.” Gil glances at the microwave clock (6:36). “I want to be out of here before dawn.”

“Oh, right.” Enkidu takes a sip—brightens. “It tastes fine!” They grin. “It’s just like not-goat’s milk!” 

Gil smiles in spite of himself. 

Enkidu takes a longer drink—winces so hard (with an unfairly adorable squeak) even their hair flinches, and quickly sets down the glass. 

“It’s so cold!” They press the heel of their palm to their brow, their face scrunching. “Why is it so cold?” 

Gil looks at the fridge. “It was in the ... ice box, and it’s cold in there.” 

Enkidu waves blindly in his direction. “That helps not at all.” They wince again. “Why is this hurting so much? Why is drinking milk making my face hurt?” They hiss, and try opening an eye. 

Gil snickers. 

“This isn’t funny.”

“Oh no, of course, this isn’t funny at all, it’s very terrible!” Gil grins. “The mighty Enkidu: undefeated by the Gate of Babylon, invulnerable even to the gods and Death herself, brought low by a single glass of chilled milk.”

Enkidu sucks in a breath of air and succeeds in getting one eye open. “When you put it that way, it is actually kind of funny.” 

Still grinning, Gil asks, “Do you want me to warm it for you?”

Enkidu hands over the glass. “Yes please.” 

Gil crosses to the microwave and pops open the door. 

The sound draws Enkidu’s attention and therefore Enkidu. 

Gil closes the door and steps aside. “Press here, here, and then here.” He indicates the keypad accordingly. 

Enkidu approaches carefully, and gently puts their index finger against the ‘2’—

It beeps—

Enkidu recoils. Checks with Gil—“It’s supposed to do that?”

He nods. 

Enkidu faces down the number pad again, and presses on the ‘0’—

Another beep, and Enkidu barely flinches this time. 

Gil considers warning Enkidu about the noise from the start button but decides against it. 

The microwave whirls to life—

Enkidu startles—“It lights up inside!” They move higher and closer, almost pressing their face to the window—“Gil, it’s spinning!” 

“Really?” Gil nudges Enkidu a teeny bit to the side and peers in. “I didn’t know it could do that.”

The microwave announces—

Enkidu bonks into Gil’s shoulder. 

Gil pushes them away. “Push down on this.” He indicates the lever. “It opens easily.”

“Okay.” Enkidu puts two fingers on the lever and pushes—

The lock _sproings—_

Gil catches the door before it can spring into their forehead—

Enkidu still jerks back out of the way, though they forget to let go of the lever. 

“You wouldn’t be the first,” assures Gil, having seen Tohsaka nearly whack himself on two separate occasions. 

Enkidu queries. 

Gil replies with a flat look. 

“I was just asking!” 

“Nothing more in the world brings me more joy than satisfying you and your curiosity.”

“Your words are so sincere, and yet your tone speaks volumes.”

“Think what you will,” Gil replies airily. He nods to the glass. “It may be hot.”

Enkidu scrutinises the microwave. “Why is the temperature of things so ….” 

Instead of answering (and potentially bringing up the paradox of butter), Gil suggests, “You can bring that along.”

“Right.” As cautiously as before, Enkidu touches the glass—almost laughs with relief when it doesn’t try to attack them or their face, and takes it from the microwave. 

Gil scoops up their ankle. “Just push the door closed. The latch gives easily.”

Enkidu nods absently, and pushes the door shut—they flinch at the sound but sparkle with pride. 

“I knew you could do it.” Gil heads out of the kitchen, pulling Enkidu along behind him like a kite. “Don’t spill.”

“I’m not a child,” Enkidu retorts. 

“You were wrapped up in a baby blanket and your first drink in the new world is milk.” Gil raises an eyebrow. “Discuss.” 

Enkidu replies with a raspberry. 

The door of the study opens when Gil turns the handle, which feels like the first thing that’s gone right for the last hour. 

He drops Enkidu’s foot, enters the room and goes to the desk, and flicks on the lamp. 

“You have _got_ to tell me how that works.” 

Gil crosses to the filing cabinet. “Manufactured lightning.” 

It’s locked. 

Of course it’s locked.

“That raises more questions and I really want to ask but I’ll just ... Look at this.” Enkidu descends to lamp-height, and becomes utterly transfixed. 

If only one door had to be unlocked today, why did it have to be the study? Why couldn’t it have been the filing cabinet? 

But. Tohsaka had given him a key. 

(Tohsaka had given him a few keys.)

On cue, a Gate opens; still frowning at the cabinet, Gil holds out a hand. The Gate deposits a clatter—

Gil’s attention snaps to his hand—

The Gate had given him three skeleton keys and a ring of eight house keys, which is not the small case Gil had banished them in, nor does this help him collect the dossiers and be off before the sun rises. 

Enkidu snickers; there’s a clink as they set their glass on the coaster Tohsaka used for his coffee, and then they’re gently pushing Gil away from the lock. 

The problem, Gil believes, is that he summoned the Gate to “satisfy his desire for this to be unlocked” instead of “give me this particular key”. 

“You look so offended,” Enkidu giggles, putting their palm against the keyhole. “Was the Gate’s betrayal truly so calamitous?” 

Gil just banishes his handful of utterly useless keys. 

(He’s somewhat concerned about the state of the lock pick gallery in his Treasury.)

The lock clicks; Enkidu pulls their palm away, scopes out the door … and takes a hold of the handle. “May I?”

Gil waves a hand. 

Enkidu pulls—reels backwards as it swings upwards and outwards. 

Gil _cackles_. 

Enkidu sighs heavily and pushes the door into place. “You got me.” 

Gil shoos Enkidu out of the way, slides open the drawer, and scans the labels. 

Enkidu returns to their preferred cruising altitude and glides closer. “These are all records and taxes and the like?” 

“Mhm.” Gil fishes out the only compartment with a red and gold sticker. 

Enkidu prods one of the labels. “This is so much more effective than clay tablets.” 

Gil flips through the documents. “Less aesthetic though.” He picks out his own dossier, opens a Gate, and sends it through. “Watch out.” 

The Gate winks shut.

Enkidu pulls back. 

Gil pushes the drawer back in and closes the door. 

Enkidu pouts, but twists around and flies across the room to investigate the rest of the office. 

Gil glances at the clock—6:41. 

If he gives himself a couple of minutes, he can take notes without fighting his Treasury for a straightforward pen, and they can still leave before quarter to and be on their way out of the city while still shrouded in the ambiguity of pre-dawn gloom. 

A Gate opens with a calligraphy set carved from ivory, stained here and there with iridescent violet ink.

Gil very pointedly nudges the box back through the Gate. 

It closes, and the fizzle most certainly does not sound dejected.

(He _could_ just focus on a bit of knowledge and let his omniscience fill his mind with information, but right now, he has more pressing matters to think about than history.)

He drops the rest of the files on the desk; he finds the dossier for Caster and notes, “Gilles de Rais, France, 1400s, Jean?”

(Gil wonders if he’s writing in Sumerian or Japanese.)

He opens another Gate and sends it through. 

Enkidu has gone very still. 

Gil pulls out Saber’s: “Jean? Excalibur.” He feeds it to the Gate as well. 

Enkidu darts out the door. 

Gil spreads out the files—one profile catches his eye and he shakes it free—

Waver Velvet, Master of Rider—

“That _liar_!” 

“Gil?” Enkidu glides back into the study—

Gil throws up the file. “This little brat _lied_. To my _face_.” 

Not even a smile, and Enkidu says, “I think you should see this.” 

Gil sweeps the rest of the files into the Gate, vaults the desk as the Gate closes, and strides after Enkidu. 

“You’ll need a light.” 

Gil summons a fairy light—

There’s a bead on the floor. 

Enkidu picks their way past it; the fairy light follows. 

Another bead flashes. And another. 

A broken bracelet. 

An outstretched hand. And an arm. And a body. 

The body of Tohsaka Aoi. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many notes for this chapter I just put them in [this tumblr post](https://shmoo92.tumblr.com/post/645055071675203584%22)!
> 
> I will say here though that everything was going smoothly until Rin showed up. I got her back to bed, and was reading about a Aoi--I need her for a later plot point ... which then derailed the next like, three chapters. But more about that later!


End file.
